


Another Start

by xfilesfanatic



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Pre-X-Files Revival, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfilesfanatic/pseuds/xfilesfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musings during the 2016 New Year. Inspired by the original series, and the "X-Files: Reopened" video.<br/>WARNING: contains revival spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Start

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The X-Files is not mine. 
> 
> A/N: When I mention William's being born in February 2001, I assume he was conceived in early May 2000, shortly before Mulder's abduction.
> 
> Happy New Year's, fellow X-Philes!  
> ........

As the clock strikes ten to midnight, Mulder finds himself sitting in a chair on the porch of his little house in rural Virginia. His long winter trench coat insulates him from the chilled air that blows through the porch and the forest of trees surrounding his property, but nothing is there to relieve him of the chill inside his soul, brought on by the fact that someone is missing by his side, and that tonight he can’t help but find himself looking at the sum of his life.

  
When he was a boy, celebration of the holidays seemed to come to an abrupt halt after Samantha’s disappearance. There was no sister to play with, his parents constantly argued behind closed doors, and he was exposed to the stress of it all. Sometimes, he felt as though his parents had forgotten they had a son, that he had ears. It was almost like they were so absorbed in their bickering that they didn’t even notice, or consider, his own pain over the loss of his kid sister. The holidays grew quiet, his relationship with his parents tense during what were supposed to be the most joyous times of the year. Celebration of love and kinship had been tossed out the window, and it officially fell apart for the Mulders when Teena and Bill finally divorced. Holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving were split for him, spending the eve with one parent, and the holiday itself with another.

  
New Years, however, was never really acknowledged by his parents. Every year it was always the same: his family was torn, and Samantha never came back; nothing new. That never stopped Mulder from hoping, though. During his teen years, he developed a small ritual where he would go outside on the stroke of midnight every New Year, look up at the stars, and wonder about his sister.

  
_Did her captors keep her hostage tonight? Or was she safe, spending the New Year with someone? Did she miss her family? Did she remember him? Was she thinking about him now, just as he was her?_

  
A million questions like these would swirl through his mind as he stared at the balls of light in the sky, as he made a wish on each one, hoping against all hope that maybe this New Year would bring a ray of light back into his life. Maybe Sam would return, and her reappearance would glue his family back together. _Maybe this year._

  
It never happened.

  
By the time Mulder left for England to obtain his education at Oxford, the ritual had stopped. He was going to school miles from home, and at that point he would have been lying if he said he was going to miss his parents. He wasn’t even on speaking terms with either of them. It was no longer worth it to wish on stars for the repair of his family.  
Still though, he was like most in that he was one to stay awake until midnight and acknowledge the New Year, but the holiday itself no longer held any meaning or significance for him.

  
Not until Scully came into his life.  
…………………

  
Mulder sighed slowly. A ghostly puff of air seeped from his mouth and into the night. He checked his cell phone: _12:00 am_. It was midnight now. Officially January 1, 2016.  
_Happy New Year, Scully_ , he breathed. He thought about texting her, but decided against it. She left him two years ago and rarely came by to see him. Any attempt to contact her now would only make him yearn more for her presence. They still loved one another, mind you, but they were not at all in a good place right now.

  
To think, it was now exactly sixteen years, to the day (and minute), since their first uninterrupted kiss. It was a simple kiss, warm and chaste, and yet one that held promise for something much more than their platonic relationship. That moment, back at the start of the millennium, renewed his hope in second chances and the coming of better days.  
Not surprisingly, it also became one of his favorite eidetic memories, forever adhered into his mind. And it was this memory from which he drew strength during hard times, especially during the new year of 2002. When dark forces infiltrated the FBI he went underground, lest he endanger Scully and their newborn son, William. He spent that year with Gibson Praise in the New Mexico desert, hiding out and desperately wishing he were home, wishing he could be back in DC to kiss Scully at midnight, and then kiss William goodnight before she put their sleeping son into his bassinet.

  
_William._

  
Another person who is missing by his side tonight. It’s unbelievable to think that in a few months he’ll be fifteen, and he’s missed every moment of his life. All of it, save the first forty-eight hours after his birth.

  
For the first time in years, Mulder looks into the night sky beyond his porch and ponders, but this time he wonders about his son.

  
_Where was he now? Was he celebrating New Years with his adoptive parents? He’s a teenager; maybe he was out with friends? Or did he still have a few hours to wait until the clock struck twelve?_

  
Mulder feels his throat constrict at the thought of his son and he pulls out his baby picture, one that Scully kept with her over the years. Shortly before she left, she made a copy of the picture and gave it to him. In it, William is wearing a light blue onesie, posed in a crawling position. His bulbous blue eyes stare straight at Mulder through the photo.  
Now he holds it between gloved fingers and remembers the precious forty-eight hours he had with him, before he had to leave.

  
He remembers William swaddled in blankets, staring up at him with those innocent baby blues; William had his father’s lips. But given his bald head, he couldn’t help but tease that their son looked like Assistant Director Skinner. That first moment he held him was a miracle, not just for Scully but for him. Because on that night in February in the year 2001, Mulder had a family again.

  
But like most things in his life, it ended all too soon. By the time he came out of hiding, Scully gave up William for adoption in order to protect him. Again, his family was broken, just like the first one. After that, Mulder and Scully were a family of two.  
……………………

  
Despite the strength of their love for one another, and years of experience of overcoming hardship together, that guilt that settled after William’s adoption gnawed at them slowly, until it made a significant dent in their relationship.

  
Although she would never admit it, Scully had lived in fear of Mulder resenting her for giving up William, and overtime she drifted from Mulder when she returned to medicine and became a practicing doctor, burying herself in work at the hospital. He, on the other hand, slowly sank into a depression.

  
_The truth is, I worry about you_. She would tell him that over and over, and he insisted he was fine. He regrets it now because that was a bunch of BS. She had every right to be worried.

  
When 2013 came around, they both hit rock bottom. Scully practically lived at the hospital, and he confined himself to their home as though he chained himself within and threw away the keys, unwilling and unable to free himself. In 2013, he knew William would turn twelve. His son was twelve and he was an absent father, just as his own had become when he was that age. This angered him, and he struggled to bottle the frustration. Despite it, he never resented Scully for this; he didn’t have to. She already hated herself at times for giving him up. And on his end he hated himself, for listening to her all those years ago and going into hiding. It wasn’t worth it.

  
Time had been difficult on their relationship, but before things got bad for them, Mulder and Scully used to toast to William at the beginning of each year, hoping that their son lived each year of his life in safety, never having to fear anything or anyone.

  
In time, the toasts stopped, and his life seemed to reflect his teen years again, with quiet holidays and a strained relationship.

  
Mulder couldn’t bear that pain again, and in turn he closed off to Scully, even one time when she made a trying effort to reach out to him and talk things out, to save them from themselves, to salvage what was left of their relationship. He was so withdrawn, he didn’t try. He buried himself back into X-Files and mysteries and conspiracy theories that could never love him as she did, and after a considerable period of discomfort, it was enough to make Scully walk out the door.  
………………..

  
And now he sits here, alone. Almost fifteen years after their son was born, exactly sixteen years after he first kissed Scully, and twenty-two years after he first met her. All that time had now seemed as though it were the length of one breath.

  
Twenty-two years of his life gone, and he had little to show for it. One thing he always had, though, was his relationship with Scully. She was his constant for as long as he knew her, and for that he owed her everything. And to think this is how he repaid her: by telling her back in 2008 that they could never be together, and then by tuning her out later when he drowned in depression. _Some way to treat your touchstone_.

  
How unbelievable: it didn’t take monsters or conspirators to separate him and Scully. He did that himself.  
……………

  
Outside, the wind picks up and Mulder stands, with the intention of retreating back into the warmth of the house. Before he does, he looks up at the stars.

  
“Scully,” he speaks into the wind. “If you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I want to try again.” And with that, he turns his back to the night and enters the light of the house. It takes a while before he falls asleep, but when he does, he dreams of Scully, of their millennium kiss, and of their son. He imagines what it would be like to move forward again, to take Scully’s hand and walk with her in the sunlight through the tallgrass on the property, to look again and enjoy life on this planet, with her.

  
Maybe with this new year, he can find a new hope.

  
This, however, is not his New Year’s resolution. Repairs like these take time and are far more easily said than done. It is a wish too great to be accomplished overnight, or maybe even in the span of a year.

  
This year, his resolution is to start small. Maybe he’ll begin by seeing a therapist; find someone to he can confide in to release some of his burdens. As a psychologist, he knows it won’t be easy, but in the long run, it just might be a step in the right direction so that he can repair himself. He wishes that he had done this earlier, when Scully first diagnosed him with depression. He’s paying for that mistake, but he’s willing to try now, for himself, for her, for _them_. Better late than never.

  
It is a time for change, for revival. And it’s a good place to start.


End file.
